


Finding Yourself(Ianthony)

by orphan_account



Category: Smosh
Genre: Angst, Anthony Padilla - Freeform, BoyxBoy, Hurt, Ian - Freeform, Ian Hecox - Freeform, Ianthony - Freeform, Love, M/M, MxM - Freeform, anthony - Freeform, smosh - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the video Waiting Game by allthefeelsYT. </p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-QDUpc125k&list=LLQCilK_w7frEKN8uIQWn0yw&index=1 </p><p>Anthony has been keeping something from Ian, and Ian finds out just before its too late. As Anthony heals, the pair begin to need each other in ways they never knew before, and feelings they didn’t know they had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never been depressed, I don’t know all that much about depression, so I’m sorry if this is inaccurate or if I offend anyone in anyway.

Chapter 1

Anthony was a thinker. He always was a thinker; an over analyser even. That’s what Ian thought he was. Ian thought he just thought too much. In Anthony’s opinion, Ian didn’t understand the way Anthony’s mind worked, but that was okay. It was Anthony’s over thinking and analyzation that began his depression. 

He had self-diagnosed with bipolar depression about a year ago, around the time he thought about what Smosh used to be. Just him and Ian screwing around. Now YouTube, and money, and a gigantic production company were all involved, and it just didn’t have the same feeling. It wasn’t him and Ian doing stupid things in front of a camera. When only one of them could be in a shot at time, unless they wanted a wide shot. 

Anthony would think back to these moments, and then think of the ones he had now. He missed them, damn did he miss them. Him and Ian had definitely grown closer over the years, but in some ways he felt they grew apart. They didn’t have the closeness of acting like idiots together in their own homes. 

About six months after Anthony’s self-diagnosis, he decided to go to a doctor. The doctor prescribed him medications and all that, and told him, to start, to only take the medication on the bad days. Anthony did that, and it worked fine for the time. After a while, he stopped seeing any changes, so he stopped taking the pills and seeing the doctor all together.

There was one thing about Anthony’s depression imparticular that was different. Anthony didn’t tell anyone. Not his parents, not Ian, not anyone. He thought he did a pretty good job hiding it, since no one asked him about it. He felt his best when they filmed Lunchtime and Smosh is Bored because once again it was just him, Ian, and the camera. No scripts, no fancy lights, no crew, no nothing.

That was until about a month ago. He had taken a turn for the worse. He had taken the pill bottle out from it’s hiding place under his bed, and taken one. When it didn’t make a dent in his terrible feelings, he took a second, and a third, and that took away the pain. 

He blew through that bottle in a week. He refilled it, and went through that one in two. For the past week, he hadn’t had a pill, and didn’t even think to go to the doctor for more. He had just told Ian and the others he was sick, and stayed in his room. That week, he had begun to consider the worst. 

He started writing notes. To Mari, Flitz, Matt, Wes, David, Joven, Noah, his parents. He had written multiple drafts of notes to them, but had decided on one for each of them by the end of the day. 

He didn’t know what to write for Ian. The boy had been his best friend since sixth grade. Anthony would feel the worst about leaving Ian behind, but the pain was so bad, he just wanted to leave. He had spent an entire day on Ian’s note, and decided on five, all of which he put into an envelope with his friend’s name on it. 

That day, when Ian had left the house to go to the waterpark, Anthony planned to do it. He spent a good portion of the day debating whether he should actually do this. Was this really how and when he wanted to end his life? Should he stick it out for his friends? Did he really want to put them through that much pain? At the end of the day, he had decided that he didn’t care. The pain was too strong. He wanted to die. Now. 

He left the notes on the kitchen table. Each was labeled nicely for his friends and his parents. Then he turned and went towards the bathroom. He had broken off the blade of an exacto knife earlier in the week. He went into the bathroom and shut the door. He got in the tub, and put the blade to his wrist. Then he thought once again. Did he really want to do this? Yes. Yes, he did. He moved the blade across his wrist. 

***

Ian didn’t think there was anything wrong with Anthony when he left the house that morning. Anthony just said he was still recovering from his illness, and to go have fun without him. Ian had commented on how there was no fun without Anthony, but Anthony wasn’t really listening. 

Ian had had a great day. They had fun, recorded a little something, for both the internet and for Anthony. Ian intended to go home and order top notch take out for Anthony while he was sick. Ian was excited to get home, but he would never admit it. Ian was not expecting what he got back.

He did not expect to see eight envelopes on the table, marked in Anthony’s handwriting. 

He did not expect Anthony to be silent when Ian called for him. 

He did not expect to search the house and find it empty. 

He did not expect to find Anthony bleeding out in the bathroom. 

He was unconscious when Ian arrived. Ian had quickly run to his friend when he had opened the bathroom door and saw him sitting in the tub with blood splattered on the wall. Ian grabbed his friend’s wrist, and wiped some of the blood away, and desperately tried to stop the bleeding. Then common sense came and slapped him in the face. Common sense told him to take out his cell phone and call and ambulance. 

He had covered his phone screen, and also his face in Anthony’s blood. He didn’t care. He was getting help. He didn’t know if Anthony was still alive, but he knew that an ambulance was better than nothing, especially if he were alive.

It was all a blur to Ian. The ambulance coming, the EMTs rushing in, Anthony being pushed away on a gurney with an oxygen mask over his face, and blood covering his body. That was when Ian ran his blood covered hands through his still soaking wet hair. His hands were covered in his best friend’s blood. He put his face in his hand and wiped the few tears that had escaped his eyes. 

He walked into the kitchen and looked at his face in the microwave. It was covered in blood. Anthony’s blood. He quickly went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. The blood did not come off easily, and it was even harder to get it off his face. After the scrubbing, he went to his car. He was going to the hospital.

He thought about calling someone. Anthony’s parents, his parents, someone from smosh games, some other YouTube friend, anybody. Ian thought that in this situation one person would call another to inform and get support. Ian didn’t want support. Ian didn’t want someone joining him at the hospital. He wanted to be there alone with Anthony if...when. When Anthony made it. He did an awful job parking, and ran inside. He didn’t bother to lock the car. He just ran inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is just gonna be short chapters with cheesy cliffhangers, as most of my Ianthony stories are, but I'm proud of that.

Chapter 2

The emergency room was silent. All the people sitting there, grieving for their loved ones. He didn’t understand how they all sat like that. He was ready to scream, and if Anthony didn’t make it…he didn’t know what he would do, but he knew it would be a lot worse than him screaming. He stumbled forward to the front desk, the shock and adrenaline were wearing down, and he was beginning to get a bit woozy.

“Anthony…” Ian said softly to the woman behind the counter, “Anthony Padilla,”

“What about Anthony Padilla?” she asked, not even looking up from her computer. Any other day, Ian would be offended by her rudeness, but he was too numb to feel anything but pain. The only scenario that played in his head was Anthony not making it. As much as he told himself Anthony would make it, he kept imagining him not.

“Is he okay?” Ian asked, leaning forward slightly, trying to get a glimpse of what was so important on her computer.

“We are not free to divulge information about patients without a doctor’s permission,” she responded, still not looking up.

“Is he alive?” Ian asked, grasping at straws. This made the woman look up.

“Yes,” she said, “as of right now, he is alive,”

Her head went back to her computer. As of right now. That was all Ian really picked up during the conversation. She was not one hundred percent positive his best friend would live. Ian slowly moved to a chair and sat down. This his mind began to wander.

What would happen if Anthony didn’t make it? He imagined someone coming from the little hallway that led to the back of the hospital. He imagined them saying Anthony’s name, and him jumping up, hoping for good news. Then they delivered the bad. Anthony hadn’t made it. He didn’t know what he would do. He would fall to his knees with his head in his hands, and let all the tears he had been holding in for years would fall. A woman, a mother maybe, one come and wrap a comforting arm around him, for she was waiting to hear the fate of her child. Then Ian would scream.

Then he thought beyond that. How would he tell their friends? How would he tell Anthony’s family? How would he tell the fans? He would call their friends, one by one, and tell them the bad news. He would tell them there was an envelope at Anthony’s with their name on it, if they wanted to read it. They would handle the grief in their own way. Ian, he would be driving while he made the calls, half hoping he would get in an accident and die himself.

Then he would have to call Anthony’s parents. That would be the worst of them all. He’d have to pick up to phone and tell a mother that her son had committed suicide, and he had done nothing to stop it. He hadn’t even known that Anthony was depressed, or suicidal. He began to feel more mad at Anthony than worried about him. He was mad that Anthony hadn’t told him. He was mad that Anthony had let it go on so long that he was ready to die. He was mad at Anthony for wanting to leave him.

He was mad at Anthony yes, but that wouldn’t keep his thoughts from continuing to travel. How on earth would he tell the fans? He would do it simply. He would do it alone. His face would be tear stained when he picked up the camera and turned it on. He wouldn’t smile or crack a joke. He would stare right into the camera, and tell the fans of Anthony’s death.

He wouldn’t tell them how, not just yet. He would start crying as he began explaining the future of Smosh. He would make the decision himself, no one else would influence it. He would tell them that over the next couple of weeks, there would three more videos uploaded. One would have the details of Anthony’s death and a funeral date. He would have an open funeral. He felt it was the right thing to do. Anthony probably wouldn’t do it for him; he’d have a private funeral, but Ian was mad at Anthony at the moment. At that point, he would rather do something for the fans, then something for Anthony.

The second video would be a video memorial of Anthony. Ian would make it himself. He would have difficulty doing it, it would take him a week to finish it, through all the crying an emotional break downs. He would release it before he went to Anthony’s funeral. At which, he and Anthony’s family would accept condolences from Smosh fans and friends from everywhere.

The final video would come out with Ian finished it. It would be a video memorial of Smosh. It would summarize the last ten years of Smosh, and then end with Ian announcing that this will be last the video put on any Smosh channel. He would cry, and say he appreciated the support they got from the beginning, to the movie, to now. Then he would end it and it would be done.

He would go to Anthony’s house with his parents, and begin sorting through his things. His parents would take most of it, and give him some of it. He would steal some things too. Some things his parents didn’t exclusively give him, he would take. He would keep the boxes of Anthony’s stuff in his house, and look through it occasionally. He would cry lost tears for his lost friend.

But Anthony was going to live, right? That’s what he kept telling himself. Anthony was going to live. He kept telling himself that, but he kept thinking that he wasn’t. Anthony had to live, he just had to. Ian’s life would be nothing without him.

“Ian?”

Ian looked up. He had been dozing off, but this voice brought him back. He looked up, and saw Anthony standing there.

“Anthony!” Ian stood, elated, and moved to hug his best friend, but Anthony put a hand up.

“Ian,” Anthony said, “I’m sorry…but I don’t have much time. I need to ask you something,”

“What?” Ian asked, worried but curious, and always willing to help his friends.

“If I have the choice,” Anthony said, “should I stay?”

“Of course!” Ian answered without hesitation.

“And would you ever forgive me if I did?” Anthony asked.

“I will always forgive you,” Ian said.

“Thanks for being such a great friend, Ian,” Anthony said.

Ian opened his eyes. Once again the emergency room waiting room was silent. He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep. He didn’t even know what had just happened. Had that been a dream, or was Anthony really talking to him. He knew he would find out soon when he heard news of his friend’s condition.

He unlocked his phone. There were notification numbers up in the hundreds for all his social media, and up in thousands for his email. He ignored it all though. He didn’t want to deal with that now. He put his phone back at his pocket, and stared back at the hallway. Then a doctor came around the corner.

Ian straightened up in his chair slightly, as did everyone around him. The doctor stopped in the waiting room and looked down at the clipboard.

“Anthony Padilla,” he had said Anthony’s last name wrong. Typical.

“It’s Padilla,” Ian said, pronouncing it correctly. Some people in the waiting room began whispering. Ian stood and walked towards the doctor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my last pre-written chapter so updates will (hopefully) come on a regular basis.

Chapter 3

“Is he okay?” Ian asked. He didn’t care who the doctor was, he didn’t care what the protocols were, what had happened. All he wanted to know is if his friend was alright.

“He’s alive,” the doctor said. Ian exhaled in relief. Of course Anthony was alive, he was stupid to think his friend would die, “you’re lucky you found him when you did. A few more minutes and he might not have made it,”

In that moment, Ian was so glad that he hadn’t gone out to dinner. He had thought about it briefly, but then decided he would get him and Anthony food that night. He was damn glad he chose to do that. He never thought that such a simple decision such as where he was going to eat dinner, could determine his future, but it could. 

“Can...can I see him?” Ian asked. 

“Are you family?” the doctor asked, giving him a look. 

“No...I’m his...boyfriend,” Ian choked out. He never thought he would say those words. Of course he didn’t mean it. Not then. But the question was, did he want it? He had of course thought about it before. Between the fanfictions, and the fanart, and the fans practically shoving Ianthony upon the two of them, it was almost impossible to not think about what it would be like. And at times, he felt forced into feelings, sometimes he would feel something more for his friend.

“Follow me,” the doctor said, and turned around, walking down the hallway. Ian was surprised that had actually worked. He had told plenty of lies in his life, but he never thought he would have to tell that lie. He was just glad he told it and it had worked. He would’ve hit himself for using that lie if it didn’t work. But it did work. He was going to get to see Anthony. 

The doctor led him through the twists and turns of the hospital. He tried his best to memorize the hallways so he could sneak back in. It was hard though. He thought they purposefully made the hallways in hospitals complex and identical so people would have a hard time sneaking back. 

The doctor stopped in front of room number 1153. It was dark when they entered and it smelled strongly of hospital. The doctor turned the light on, and it was then that Ian gasped. His friend looked even worse than when he was at the house, covered in blood. Maybe it was the fact that Ian could now focus on what Anthony looked like, more than he could at the house. At the house, he was distracted by the blood, and the EMTs, and everything else that had gone on. 

Now though, Ian could see him. Anthony’s normal tanned skin was paler than Ian’s. His fingers were blue from blood loss. There were two IVs in his arm. One in his forearm, above the cuts on his wrist, bringing fluid into his body. The other was in his elbow, a bag a blood slowly dripping into his bloodstream.

“How long is he going to be like this?” Ian asked. 

“It’s hard to say,” the doctor replied, “he could be up in a few hours, he could slip into a coma. We don’t know. Situations like this are different from person to person, so there’s no way to be certain,”

“Will you have enough blood for him?” Ian asked hastily, “because I can donate,”

“I think we have enough,” the doctor chuckled, “but thank you. It’s good that you care,”

“I clearly didn’t care enough,” Ian said, looking at Anthony’s unconscious form lying on the hospital bed. What had he or anyone done wrong to make Anthony do this to himself? He tried to think what had happened over the past week. Nothing bad had happened, nothing Ian considered would lead him to suicide. They did get in a small fight, but Ian didn’t think it was what made Anthony do this. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was just the final straw. Maybe Ian had snapped the last string inside of him. But Ian didn’t see how that was possible. Anthony had been acting perfectly fine. Sure, he had his bad days where he just didn’t want to do anything, but everyone had those days. Now that Ian thought about it, Anthony had had a lot more of those days as of late. 

“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” the doctor said, “and you’ll get it,”

“Thank you Doctor…” Ian then realized how rude he had been, not even bothering to ask the man’s name. Although, being an ER doctor, he might be used to it. People so worried about their loved ones that they don’t care about his name unless they know that their loved one is okay.

“Bernhard,” he said. Ian nodded and shook his hand. 

“Thank you very much,” Ian said again. 

“You’re welcome. You can stay for a little while longer if you want, but only a little,”

“I’ll stay, thank you,” Ian said. Dr. Bernhard nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Ian now stood in the room alone. Ian didn’t know what he felt. He was grateful, more like ecstatic that his friend was alive, but also mad at him for not telling him about what was going on. He was nervous that when this was over, he’d find a more permanent way to complete his task. Ian was determined to not let that happen. He would help his friend through this time, no matter what. 

Ian pulled the little plastic chair that was in the corner over to the side of the bed. He tentatively reached his hand out before placing it overtop of Anthony’s. 

“Anthony,” Ian exhaled, “you’re an idiot, okay? I thought I’d say this to you now while you’re unconscious, so I don’t hurt your feelings, but you’re really stupid. That was just dumb. Not telling me or anyone else about your feelings just...it was stupid. Don’t get me wrong though, I will forgive you. Like I told you in that dream...as ridiculous as it sounds you came to me in a dream and asked if I would forgive you if you stayed. I will. I always will. I may be a little upset with you, and I may think you’re a bigger idiot than usual, but I will forgive you. So wake up you inconsiderate asshole,”

Ian meant every word he said to the unconscious Anthony. He thought Anthony was stupid for doing this, but he would forgive him. He had promised after all, and even if he hadn’t promised Dream Anthony, he would still forgive him. 

The door of the room opened. Ian quickly pulled his hand away and saw a nurse standing in the doorway. 

“Sir,” she said, “you have to leave now,”

“Okay,” Ian said, reluctantly standing. He looked back at Anthony one last time before exiting the room after the nurse. 

“When are visiting hours?” Ian asked as they took a different route back to the emergency room waiting room. 

“Eight am to eight pm every day,” she said. Ian nodded as they entered the waiting room. Ian looked at this phone. It was 11 pm. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so he decided to go back to Anthony’s. He would go, and clean up the blood in the shower, knowing he would be the only one who would be able to. His parents probably wouldn’t even be able to go into the bathroom, and it would been much more difficult for Anthony to do by the time he got out of the hospital. He made the executive decision that he would do it himself. 

He felt his pockets for his keys. He pulled them out, and found that his car key wasn’t on the ring. Then he remembered taking it off just before leaving to go to the hospital, for whatever reason he did that. He felt the rest of his pockets for the car key, but it wasn’t there. He had left his key in the ignition of his car, so he was not at all surprised when he entered the parking lot and saw his spot empty.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I've noticed that if you list to Waiting Game by Banks while reading this(especially the first two chapters), it makes it seem a lot sadder :)

Chapter 4

Ian cursed himself for being so stupid, but then again, his judgement was clouded. He thought his friend was going to die. The only thing going through his mind at the time was that he needed to get to that emergency room. Now that he thought back, he knew it wouldn’t mattered whether he took the ten seconds to remove his car key from the ignition or not.

He kept cursing himself. That was a really dumb idea. Like, really dumb. There were probably people who hung around, waiting for people like him to come along, so concerned about a person that they forget to lock their car, or even better leave the keys inside. Ian sighed and felt his pocket. At least he still had his wallet. He called a cab. 

He arrived back at Anthony’s house ten minutes later. He would call the cops in the morning about his car, before he went to the hospital. He walked through the dark house, only turning the light on in the bathroom. He saw the drying blood in the bathtub. He could barely look at the sight before him. He needed to get rid of it though. He slowly moved towards it, and turned the water on. The blood that hadn’t dried quickly washed away, but there was still quite a lot that didn’t.

Ian sighed. He did not want to have to scrub his best friend’s blood off the walls of the bathtub, but he had to. He wanted his friend to come home to a clean house. He got a washcloth from the closet, and began scrubbing. 

He was relieved when he finished. He threw the washcloth in the trash. He did not want that washcloth to stay around and he had a feeling Anthony wouldn’t want it either. Then he went through the house, picking up things and putting them where they belonged, and just fixing up the little things. Then he got to the kitchen. 

The envelope’s were still on the table. They were still untouched. He didn’t think he should open them, none of them. He picked them all up, and carried them to Anthony’s room. There were a lot in his hands. Once he got there, and envelope fell onto the ground. It was the envelope with his name on it. He was practically beckoning him to read. He placed the rest of the envelope’s on Anthony’s nightstand and picked up his. It was significantly heavier than the others. None of them were sealed, so he lifted the flap, and pulled out five pieces of paper. Each had a little number on them, he unfolded paper number one. 

Ian,

I’ve gotta be honest...I have no idea what to say. I know you’re probably very mad at me   
for not telling you, and you have every right to be. I should’ve told you before I got to   
this point, but I was stupid and I didn’t. I’ll tell you now. I’ve had bipolar depression for about a year now. You know how you think I over analyze things? Well, this was one of those times. I was thinking about what Smosh used to be...and...well, it made me sad. Like, it to be us just goofing off in front of a camera, but now there’s money, and YouTube, and a production company involved. Not that I don’t like them, it’s just not what it used to be,and I miss it. You can’t tell me that you don’t miss it...for two reasons and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you or anyone else with my problems. I went to a doctor for a little while but it didn’t help.

I’m sorry,  
Anthony

Ian didn’t know if he wanted to punch himself or Anthony. He wanted to punch himself for not noticing, and he wanted to punch Anthony for not telling. Ian could’ve helped him, and maybe they wouldn’t even be here right now. He neatly folded up paper one and opened paper two

Ian,

This isn’t the only secret I’ve kept from you. Most of the time I’ve come clean and told   
you after a little while, but this I haven’t. I don’t even know if I can come clean about it   
now...it’s probably my deepest secret. The only one who knows is Pip. Dammit, Pip. I   
almost forgot about him. Talk to my parents, I’m sure they’ll take him if you don’t want   
him, but if you want him, he’s all yours.

Anthony

What was Anthony’s biggest secret? If Anthony didn’t tell in one of the following letters what his deepest secret was, he might just have to march into the hospital and go ask, although that would defeat the purpose of a biggest secret. But Anthony did owe him. A lot. Ian did save his life, in the sense that he called the ambulance, but Anthony was going to leave him. And that was really mean. Anthony owed Ian. 

He moved on to note three. 

Ian

I bet you’re probably wondering what to tell the fans. Tell them the truth, and tell them I  
was a jackass for keeping it from everyone. Tell them what you think about the entire   
situation. Even though you know I’d hate it, have an open funeral. Invite the fans.   
They deserve it after what I’ve done to them. But please, Ian, whatever you do, please   
keep Smosh going. I’m begging you. As my last dying wish, please keep going with this.   
And, if you absolutely cannot, if you are physically unable to, at least keep the channels   
up. Don’t delete them. Maybe auction off some old stuff of mine. Hell, do that even if you   
keep going with the channel. Please, please, please, please keep going. Please.

Please,  
Anthony

Ian almost laughed at Anthony’s request for two reasons. One, that Anthony expected Ian to be able to keep going with this after he was dead. Two, because Anthony was in no position to make demands like that. If he wanted Smosh to go on, he should’ve chosen to stay. It was Anthony’s choice to leave, so Anthony didn’t get to make any demands. 

The next one was short.

Ian, 

I hope you know that I feel worst about leaving you. You were the one thing in this whole  
world that made me think about staying. I’m so so so so so so so sorry that I left you, I  
really am. The pain was just too much. I wouldn’t be able to handle it for anyone. I feel  
so terrible, I do. I’ll really miss you, Ian. 

Anthony

Ian had no comment to make on this note. It was a sincere apology, but if Anthony hadn’t made it, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to apologize for what his best friend did. 

He was not expecting what came in the last one.

Ian, 

I mentioned my deepest secret in one of my earlier letters, and, knowing you, it’s probably killing you that you don’t know what it is(probably an inappropriate analogy  
to use, but I can’t think of anything else to use). I’m just gonna say it. I’m in love with you, Ian. Not like friendship love, but real, affectionate love. I’m not as disgusted by the fanworks of us as I act like I am. I’ve just always been too embarrassed to say anything because you do seem truly disgusted by them. But there it is. I said it. And that is why I feel the worst about leaving you.

With love and regrets,   
Anthony

Ian quickly folded up the final paper, and put them all back in the envelope. He honestly didn’t know what to think about what Anthony had wrote. He tucked the envelopes in the drawer of his nightstand. Did he feel the same way Anthony did? He didn’t know. He honestly didn’t know. Over the years, there have been times where he has felt something, but it wasn’t a constant thing. It sounded like that, to Anthony, his love was a constant thing, and it had been for years. Ian’s wasn’t.

Now came the question, did he tell Anthony that he read the letters? He didn’t feel that he should. Anthony had revealed his deepest, darkest secret to him in those letters, which was something he wasn’t prepared for Ian to know while he was alive. Ian decided he wouldn’t tell him until he sorted his feelings out. And even then he didn’t know if he would tell; he would only tell if he felt the same way.

Then his phone rang. He pulled it quickly from his pocket, and saw it was the hospital. His thumb slipped multiple times as he tried to unlock it. 

“Hello?!” Ian said urgently.

“Sir,” it was Dr. Bernhard, “you need to get to the hospital. Now. We need blood,”

“What happened?!” Ian asked, getting off the bed and quickly pulling on his shoes.

“Just get here!” the doctor yelled. Ian hung up and ran out of the house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know if any of the things in this chapter, or this story for that matter, are medically possible or plausible. I just made them up for the sake of the story :)

Chapter 5

Ian took Anthony’s car this time. He didn’t have time to wait for a cab, so he was speeding down the road. He even went through a red light. There was no one coming in either direction, and he needed to get to the hospital. His hands were sweating as he sped down the road at 1 am. Then it happened. 

It was bound to happen, he was going 60 miles per hour on a twenty-five mile per hour road. He thought he was in the clear, considering it was one in the morning, but he still heard the police sirens behind him. He couldn’t stop now. Anthony was dying. He needed to get to that hospital. He kept driving. 

He pulled into the hospital parking lot, with the cop close behind him. He took the two seconds this time to take the keys out of the ignition, and lock the car. Then the cop came running up to him.

“Sir I’m sorry. I’ll take whatever punishment you give me,” Ian said, running towards the doors. The cop was behind him, “but my friend is in their dying. The doctor needs me to save him,”

Ian ran through the sliding glass doors. He saw the nurse who had taken him from Anthony’s room before standing there. She began walking the second she saw him, and Ian was hot on her heels. 

“What’s going on?” Ian asked frantically. 

“We don’t know exactly what happened,” she said, “only that he’s bleeding out again,”

“How is that possible?” Ian asked.

“There are new cuts,” she said. 

“You think he woke up, realized he was still alive, and tried again?” Ian asked. She nodded as she pushed the door to Anthony’s room opened. Inside was Dr. Bernhard, and a few more nurses. Anthony’s heart monitor was beeping loudly and quickly. It sounded very bad. 

“Thank god you’re here,” Dr. Bernhard said, “there isn’t enough time to take a bag, we’re going to have to transfer your blood directly into his bloodstream,”

“What?!” Ian asked, shocked, “couldn’t that kill me?” 

“We’ll cut if off before that happens,” a nurse said, pulling a chair up next to Anthony’s bed for him to sit in. 

“But won’t that kill him?” Ian asked. 

“No, because he isn’t bleeding anymore,” Dr. Bernhard said, “but his body isn’t producing blood fast enough for him to live much longer,”

Ian nodded slowly, sitting in the chair a letting a nurse go at him with alcohol wipes. A tourniquet was tied tightly around his upper arm as he was told to put his hand into a fist. He winced slightly as the needle entered his elbow. He had never been fond of them. They attached a tube to the needle sticking out of his arm, that ran to Anthony’s IV. The blood left Ian’s body, was slowed down slightly when it made it to Anthony’s IV, and then went into his body at an appropriate speed. 

Ian really didn’t like getting his blood taken. He would see the blood leave his body, and he would flip out a little. His blood was supposed to be in his body, not out. He hated getting blood taken. Whenever he needed to get it done, he would stick his face in his phone. That’s why he thought it meant something when he didn’t hesitate out of fear to let the doctor take his blood. He had even offered it before without hesitation. He thought that said something about his feelings. 

The heart monitor began to calm down, and the tense atmosphere of the room started to die down. Anthony was going to live. Ian was not leaving Anthony’s side. He was not going to let this happen again. Anthony was going to live, and Ian was going to personally make sure of it. 

A few moments later, the nurse closed off Anthony’s IV, and removed the needle from Ian’s arm. Blood came oozing out of the now empty hole and she quickly put a piece of gauze overtop. Ian held it there while she went to go dispose of the materials.

“Is he going to be okay?” Ian asked. Dr. Bernhard nodded. Ian exhaled in relief, “can I umm...can I stay with him? To make sure he doesn’t do that again?”

“I guess,” he said, “just don’t leave the room, or I’m sure someone will kick you out,”

Ian nodded. The nurses began to clear out. Dr. Bernhard was the last to leave. Then Ian looked at Anthony. He was paler than he was the last time he was in here, but Ian expected that, didn’t he? He really didn’t know what to expect. His best friend had just tried to commit suicide, and when he failed, and woke up alone in the hospital, he tried again. 

Ian sat back in the chair. He didn’t know what to do in this moment. He had already taken his anger out on the unconscious man...maybe that’s why he tried again. Ian just looked at the unconscious Anthony, and he just got really mad. Ian got off the plastic chair, and threw it across the room. He grabbed the bottle of soap off the sink and threw that across the room as well. It hit the wall and exploded; liquid soap flying everywhere. He was mad. He didn’t know if he mad at Anthony or if he was at himself. All he knew is there was rage boiling inside him. He threw a box of latex gloves. 

“Ian…”

Ian turned, tears now streaming down his red face. There was Anthony, lying on the bed with his eyes open. He was awake, and he was alive.

Ian ran back over to the bed, standing over his best friend, looking down at him. Anthony just looked up at him. Both were at a loss for words. They were thrilled to see each other. Ian to see Anthony awake and alive, and Anthony to see Ian at all. He didn’t expect to wake up alive the first time, and when he saw Ian wasn’t there, he thought that the man didn’t care, so Anthony had tried again. Now, once again, he was alive, and this time, Ian was there. 

“Anthony,” Ian said, “you’re stupid,”

“I know,” Anthony said.

“I mean that was just...that was just dumb,” Ian couldn’t stop himself, “I mean, what would compel you to do that?! And let alone not tell anyone?! Not come to any of us for support?! That was freakin dumb, dude,”

“I know,” Anthony said. He didn’t like it when his best friend and crush yelled at him, but he deserved it. He absolutely deserved this. He had been the dickhead who wanted to leave his best friend, without even telling his best friend about any of his problems. He had just been an absolute dickhead, and he deserved to be yelled at forever. As much as he wanted Ian to forgive him, he didn’t deserve it. 

“I know I don’t deserve it,” Anthony said, “but will you forgive me?”

“Of course,” Ian said, as if there was no question about it, “I’m just pissed at you, and I think you’re a moron right now,”

“I don’t blame you,” Anthony said weakly, looking down at the bandages on his wrist. He could only imagine the stitches underneath them, and the scars they would leave behind, “did you...ummm...did you read the notes I left?”

“No,” Ian lied. He thought it better to lie now, while he was confused about his feelings. A jab in Anthony’s heart that big might just compel him to try a more permanent method, “they’re in the drawer of your nightstand. I went home, and I umm...I cleaned the blood out of the bathtub, and I put the notes there. Then they called me back,”

“What for?” Anthony asked, a little more strength in him now.

“They needed blood,” Ian said, “for you. So they took it directly from my body to yours,”

Ian gestured to the needle in Anthony’s arm. Anthony glanced down at it, seeing a few droplets of blood closer to his skin. He nodded slowly. 

“Does anyone else know?” Anthony asked. Ian shook his head. 

“I didn’t tell anybody. I didn’t even think to,” Ian said. 

“Good,” Anthony said, “I’d like to keep it that way,”

“How on earth are you going to hide this?” Ian asked. 

“Wear long sleeves, hoodies, gloves. Make sure my wrists are covered…”

“No no no. Dude. You’re in the hospital,” Ian said, “how are you going to hide that because I don’t think you’re going to be leaving tomorrow,”

“Umm…” Anthony thought for a moment, “say I had pneumonia are something. I’m doing good, and no one is allowed to come to the hospital because I’m contagious or whatever,”

“Okay,” Ian said, sitting down on the plastic chair. 

“I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble,” Anthony said. Ian almost scoffed. Yes, Anthony had caused him a lot of trouble, but he wasn’t about to tell his suicidal best friend that. Not all of it, maybe just a little.

“About that,” Ian said, “my car got stolen then I got chased by a cop on my way here in your car”

“What?” Anthony asked, sitting up a little. 

“It was like one in the morning, I ran a red and was going sixty on a twenty five mile per hour road trying to get here,”

And with that, the cop burst into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am going on vacation for about ten days and I probably won't have wifi so I won't be updating during that time. I should have some stuff written when I get back so I'll have something for you guys then :)


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